Lifeline
by Muzzy-Olorea
Summary: -JL- Set after ‘2.15 Red Herring’. He knew that this was one of the rare moments when she saw him as something other than the mean, irresponsible sadist that he was.


**Lifeline**

_**Disclaimer: The plot's mine, just borrowing the rest.**_

**A/N:- I know in the episode Lisbon switches off her desk lamp, presumably to head home, so I tweaked that bit.**

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**_You're watching everything you ever held on to  
Slip away from you  
And all you're running from well it's catching up to you  
Got you looking for a lifeline  
Swimming in the high tide  
Waiting for the daylight  
To bring you home …_  
**Mat Kearney – Lifeline**

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Jane never felt bad for crossing lines, whether it was physical ones or emotional ones, and as far as he was concerned, when someone claimed that some things were private, it was just another way of saying that they had something to hide. Nothing was off limits and nothing was too personal not to be used as a source of manipulation: this was what made him simultaneously good at his job and hated by nearly everyone who he crossed paths with.

But now as he watched Lisbon through the gap in the blinds, he did feel a twinge of guilt. No matter how honourable his intentions were this time, he was seeing her at her most vulnerable, a side to her that she would never willingly reveal to anyone, least of all him.

Ever since Bosco's death, she had kept insisting she was fine and, for awhile, she _was_ fine, at least on the surface, but lately he could see that the pent up grief had been taking its toll on her. She looked constantly tired and distracted and it had been even harder for him to coax a smile from her. He had tried going about this the socially acceptable way by asking her how she was but when she had continuously brushed him off, he had had to fall back on the underhanded approach.

He watched as her hand hesitated over the bottle of tequila.

This case had brought some things home to him, one of which had hurt more than almost anything else in his life. He had heard what Lisbon had told Abigail Barge about her husband wanting to change when he found out she was pregnant and that had made him think back to when his wife had told him they were having a daughter. He had been genuinely happy and he had given his wife everything, a new house, a bigger car suitable for a family, everything except the one thing she had wanted. He hadn't been willing to sacrifice all the attention and power and give up his job to become a better husband and a better father. He had refused to change for his family and in the end that had cost them their lives.

As he watched Lisbon torn between continuing an innocent but meaningful tradition and stopping herself from doing something which reminded her of Jeffrey Barge and her father, he knew that this case had made some things clear to her too.

It had put it into harsh perspective that although there was nothing wrong with having a shot of tequila to celebrate closing a case, there was always the danger it could very easily escalate into something that she couldn't control, especially with the stress she had been under recently. She, more than anyone, knew the dangers of getting into a routine as far as alcohol was concerned and yet the impulse to hang onto the last thing that reminded her of Bosco was overwhelming. He saw the pain on her face as she silently battled with herself and it caused his heart to ache in a way it had never done before.

Every since his family had been killed, everything had been so clear-cut in his life. It was all about finding Red John. Nothing else mattered; solving crimes was simply a means to an end. However, he was beginning to realise that Teresa Lisbon was a very grey area and although responsibility was usually a foreign concept to him, he somehow felt responsible for leaving a blazing path of destruction right through the centre of her life and for turning her already troubled world even more upside down.

As he watched her decisively shut the drawer for the last time and turn to her computer, he knew exactly what he had to do. He had to do it for Lisbon to stop her from going down the dark one-way street he had helped drive her to; he had to do it for Bosco because he had made a promise to him; and he had to do it for himself and maybe, just maybe, through helping her, he could find some sort of absolution for himself.

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Half an hour later Jane walked back into the CBI and into Lisbon's office armed with a brown paper bag.

She jumped slightly at the unexpected interruption and gave him her patented look of mild irritation. "I thought you'd left ages ago."

"Yeah, well, I came back," he said, pulling a chair closer.

She looked at him suspiciously and he smiled before taking the tubs of ice cream out of the bag and putting them on her desk one by one: vanilla, strawberry, chocolate, chocolate chip, white chocolate, dark chocolate, mint chocolate and, his personal favourite, Rocky Road.

"I thought we could start our own tradition," he said simply.

Her eyes met his and he watched as she processed what he said: confusion, realisation that he was referring to the tequila, annoyance that he had obviously been spying on her earlier and then, right there at the end, there was the smallest glimpse of relief, which was replaced by a glare almost as soon as it had appeared.

"You do know that I am-"

"Fine?" Jane interrupted, raising his eyebrows.

Lisbon rolled her eyes, irked that he used her catchphrase against her and reluctantly reached for a spoon. "I was going to say coping."

Jane held her gaze. He knew she didn't want to talk about it and that if he pushed her too far, too soon she would close off completely. He shrugged nonchalantly. "I know you are. The ice cream's for me," he said, snatching the Rocky Road out of her hands. "Abigail Barge's words really _really_ hurt."

Lisbon shook her head and laughed slightly and despite the slight brain freeze he was getting from the ice cream, he felt himself warm at the sound.

An hour later and probably a little giddy from the sugar high, she touched his arm gently and whispered "Thank you."

Although he acted like he hadn't heard her and simply continued reeling off every flavour of ice cream off the top of his head, as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, he knew that this was one of the rare moments when she saw him as something other than the mean, irresponsible sadist that he was and for that he should really be thanking her.


End file.
